


dizzy

by scones_and_constellations



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Crying, Cuddling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:54:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23584957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scones_and_constellations/pseuds/scones_and_constellations
Summary: i really don’t know what this is but basically i’m really sad and needed cheering up so i wrote this. i hope you like it :)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Kudos: 15





	dizzy

I jolt awake, the biting wind seeping through the threadbare blanket covering me. The dark of the night surrounds me like an inky ocean. My feet stick out of the blanket, numb from walking for days and the freezing cold of the night. There are rocks poking at my back, and cricks in my neck. My face is so cold that it burns. I try to cover it with the blanket, but it only exposes my feet to the cold. I reluctantly pull it back down, my hands barely grasping it anymore. The pounding of my head slows my movement. I can feel it in my skull, beating, pulsing, hammering. Focus on the positive, my mom told me in a letter that I never responded to. I try to go to my “happy place” as my sister would call it. But thinking about my family makes my heart ache, and thinking about him makes it wrench. Everything hurts. 

I look around to determine what time it is and what woke me up. It’s too dark to be morning, and no one is shaking me awake to keep watch. I’m usually a deep sleeper, and I’m too exhausted to have been roused awake naturally. I’m trying to figure it out, until I hear rustling in the distance. I think it’s an animal, until I hear muted sniffles coming somewhere to the left of me. I can’t tell if the person has a cold or is just crying, but it hurts me to hear either way. It reminds me of the numbness seeping into my whole being. I long for the warmth of my home, my family surrounding me, his smile. These days all I feel is cold. I feel the full weight of his grim expression. I feel a knot in my chest every time we all get together and talk about our families, especially when his face falls.  _ Don’t worry. You’ll always be my family, pal. Even if you don’t want me to be yours. _

It hurts that he only smiles when he talks about her. She sounds like a hell of a dame. Pretty, stubborn, invincible. She sounds perfect for him. I don’t know how I thought that I could ever have a chance with him. It’s not like we could ever kiss and ride into the sunset. We’d have to hide behind closed doors, hearts racing at the possibility of being caught. And that’s if he would even love me in the first place. She can probably give him a better life than I’ll ever be able to. He’d have to wait for letters that would never come, and hope against all odds that he wouldn’t receive one with the phrase “I’m sorry for your loss”. He’d have to answer questions about not having a wife, about his family, about his mental health.

It’s all been different since I was taken. He’s different. It’s not just his physical appearance. He’s been acting closed off, and it seems like all of my nightmares are coming true. He’s always been the best person I’ve ever met. He’ll never back down from a fight, never abandon the vulnerable, never put himself first (although I yell at him for it every day). He finally looks the part, and now he has the power to do everything he’s dreamed of. I think he’s finally leaving me behind. He doesn’t need me anymore now that he’s perfect. He can get any dame that he wants, face any challenges that obstruct his path, tear the world apart with his own two hands. And it’s awful that people are only now just seeing it. It’s so selfish of me to want him like the way he used to be. But I do. I want him all to myself. If they couldn’t see how amazing he was before having abs then they shouldn’t get to be around him at all. 

I’m pulled out of my thoughts again by the muted sniffling noises. 

“Hello?” I whisper. No response. “Hello”, I say a little louder. The noises stop.  _ Why did you do that? You probably scared them away.  _ “If you’re crying, it’s okay. I honestly feel like crying a lot these days too.”

“Buck?” I’d recognize that voice anywhere. Although it sounds as shaky as it was at his mom’s funeral.

“Steve?” He doesn’t respond. “Stevie? C’mon don’t be like that.”

“Okay” He sighs. 

“Why are you crying?”

“Can we talk about this in private? Anybody could hear us” He whisper shouts.

“Like where?”

“I-I don’t know” He stumbles over his words.

“C’mere. Bring your stuff.” He listens to me for once in his goddamn life. I can’t exactly see him in the dark, but I can see his outline hovering near me. “What are you waiting for?”

“How is this going to work?” I sit up, my entire body groaning in protest. I pull my blanket off of me and rise to my feet. I set my blanket on the floor, smoothing out the edges. I lay down on the blanket, and pat the space next to me. He slowly crouches down and lays down next to me, not touching me.

“I’m freezing my ass off over here.” He doesn’t move any closer. “Stupid punk” I mutter under my breath. I’m hesitant to touch him at all. I have to keep reminding myself that everything is different now. _He doesn’t need you anymore._ But there are tear tracks on his cheeks and he’s close enough for me to reach out and touch. And it feels like my heart is pulling me toward him. _steve, Steve,_ ** _Steve_** _,_ it beats. I give in. I’ve always been weak for him.

I awkwardly scoot closer and wrap an arm around his waist, pulling him to me. I take the blanket he is holding and spread it across the both of us, tucking it in around us. It’s the most warm I’ve been in days. His chest is warm, and the weight of him in my arms is already lulling me to sleep. I’m about ready to cry. This is the best I’ve felt in months.

“This okay?” He nods against me. It doesn’t feel the same as holding him before. His head is in the wrong place and I can barely wrap my arms around him. But he’s so warm, and soft, and  _ Steve.  _ He smells like bar soap and clean laundry. He feels like home in a way that I can’t fully explain. “Why were you crying?” He buries his head into my chest. “Don’t hide.” I have the intent to scold him, but my voice comes out soft. He raises his head back up, and stares into my eyes.  _ Fuck, he’s beautiful.  _ I beam at him. The corners of his mouth quirk up. 

“I’ve been having a lot of bad dreams lately.” He lowers his gaze. I raise my hand to his chin and tilt it back up.

“Hey, it’s okay. Nightmares are normal.”

“Not when you haven’t slept in days because of them and wake up crying your eyes out every night” He snaps. I pull his head back onto my shoulder. I’m tempted to kiss his neck. I just want him to feel comforted and know that I’m here for him.  _ You’re just being selfish, you only care about how good it would feel to kiss him.  _ I don’t end up doing it.

“I’m sorry, Stevie. Why didn’t you tell me? Could’ve at least tried to help.” He’s silent again.  _ Shit.  _ “Are some of them about me?” His silence is answer enough. “Steve,” I cry. I sound like a wounded animal. “Do I hurt you? Please tell me I don’t hurt you. I couldn’t handle myself if I ever hurt you or touched you without your-

He gasps. “You don’t hurt me, Buck. I know that you would never hurt me.”

“Then what-”

“In most of them I lose you. You start ignoring me or they capture you again or-” He lets out a sob. “They kill you. Or sometimes I kill you. And your blood is on my hands and your eyes are lifeless and it scares the shit out of me. What if I kill you?”

“S-”

“No, listen to me,” He yells. “You’ve been really distant since after the serum. When I rescued you from that hellhole you tore yourself away from me as soon as you could stand.” His voice trembles, “are you afraid of me?”  _ Stop crying doll, please. You’d never hurt me. _

“No. Fuck no. I was drugged and had just been strapped to a table to be experimented on. Do you think I would jump into the arms of the next person I saw? And you know that I’m a stubborn and prideful asshole. I’d have refused the help of any other person. Hell I wouldn’t even have let them help me up in the first place. It’s not just you Stevie. And did you see me a few minutes later screaming that I’d never leave without you by my side?” I pause.

“Do you really think I’m scared of you?”

“No?”  _ Where’s the confident asshole that I know and love?  _ It’s unsettling to see him like this, but it warms my heart that he’s okay with being vulnerable around me. I can’t help myself anymore, I lean in and kiss his neck. My lips barely brush against his skin, but it feels as intimate as taking a girl’s clothes off.  _ steve, Steve,  _ **_Steve_ ** _ ,  _ my heart says.  _ What the fuck are you doing? He has a girl back home. He’s not queer. He’s not a faggot. Apologize.  _

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” I can’t see his expression in the dark, and that makes everything worse.  _ What’s the worst that can happen? He calls me a faggot, he never talks to me again, he tells me he hates me. Fuck. Stop thinking, stop thinking, stop thinking. _

He doesn’t say anything, but he pulls himself impossibly closer to me.  _ What?  _ He tilts his head and presses his lips to my neck. He starts to rub my back, and he pulls at my shirt, holding the slack in his fist and then letting it go. His other hand slides under my shirt, coming to rest at my lower back. It’s warm, and I feel like putty under his hands. I’m not charged with electricity. This doesn’t feel like I would expect it to. There’s no heat in it. I feel like chocolate melting into its wrapper. Yin and yang.  _ Together.  _ I can feel his tears spill onto my shoulder. He doesn’t speak a word, but I understand.  _ It’s okay. I’ll keep you safe.  _

He pulls away.  _ It’s over.  _ But then he puts his hand on my cheek. He brushes the tears off of my face with his thumb, and runs his thumb over my lips. He leans in, his hand on my back moving to rest between my shoulder blades. He pauses, my skin tingling where he breathes.  _ C’mon punk.  _ He doesn’t move. I lean into him, our lips meeting in the middle. It reminds me of that rollercoaster we went on when we were on Coney Island. The dizziness in my head, the thumping of my heart, the adrenaline pulsing under my skin. His hand buries itself in my hair. 

I’m overwhelmed, like when we went to go dancing. The multicolored lights flashed on our skin as I danced with a dame whose name I forgot by the next day. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of him. His hand in my hair, his hand on my back, his lips on mine. I’m dizzy. I love it.  _ steve, Steve,  _ **_Steve._ ** He pulls away, but keeps his forehead pressed against mine. It takes me a while to open my eyes. I think the pulsing under my skin and beating of my heart is something akin to shock. When I open my eyes I see a flash of blue.

“Steve” I breathe. 


End file.
